And lo, they sacrificed unto the Capitol

The Oklahoma auto buyer, some time within the first thirty days after the buy, must submit to the ritual known as "Tag, Title and Tax," in which he exchanges a large check for a small metal plate and a handful of documents.

It is not necessary to visit an actual state office to do this sort of thing: the Tax Commission has farmed this task out to various private enterprises under the general name "tag agency," and just about every county has one. (Oklahoma County, with a fifth of the state's population, has three dozen or so.) This is not to say that it's less expensive: while the actual tax has been cut slightly in recent years, it's still pretty stiff.

This paragraph from the Tax Commission could be scary:

This is presumably to keep you from selling your Cadillac to your brother-in-law for $200. And after thirty-odd years here, I'm persuaded that the gum-chewing (I think it's required) girl at the tag agency knows at least as much about the retail value of a vehicle as the Kelley Blue Book.

To the tax, add the price of the title ($11, generally), the price of the registration (under $100, but not much under $100), and pretty soon you're looking at real money. My own participation in the ritual cost $486.50, all of which was duly itemized on a handwritten slip.

And no, I didn't order a vanity tag. Under Oklahoma law, the plate stays with the car, not with the owner, when the car is sold; I decided I was too lazy to (1) take out two bolts and (2) learn a new number, and unless there's a warrant for the previous owner's arrest for skipping out of parking tickets in Kansas City, I figure I'm fine.